Crazy News Mystery

The drone of the news hummed through the eggshell-colored, eggshell-thin walls of the dingy motel, anchor Harold Greyson’s voice carrying over in muddy tones that Ophelia could barely make out. Her neighbors had a habit of leaving the television on as they slept. Normally, this would drive Ophelia crazy, interrupting already sleepless nights full of worrying and calculating and planning, but, tonight, she welcomed it. In fact, she planned on it – she was supposed to have vacated Room 303, but a bit of light lockpicking had earned her one more night in the sparsely populated lodging, so long as she made no sign that she was still there.

Headlines drifted through in barely intelligible spurts, but she could parse out enough keywords to get the gist. Wall Street had enjoyed a particularly productive day; there was a surprise cold front flash-freezing the Midwest; the President had caused another uproar. He shifted to local news, and to a color piece where Kandi Gustavson, his cohost, visited a newly opened arcade to play pinball. Her “pinball wizard” joke was interrupted by a Breaking News chime.

“This…in,” Ophelia heard. “Local tycoon… Harris… note about… threat… steal… jewel. Tonight… stolen. Live… Harris Mansion... Kandi…”

“Greyson,” Kandi Gustavson’s chipper voice piped up, “…Sad scene... tonight… heirloom… stolen. Police… looking… answers… mystery.”

Ophelia smiled. Kandi was launching into an in-depth description of the stolen jewel, a luminous hunk of circle-cut sapphire the size of a golf ball. It nested in the loving grasp of an antique statue in the foyer, where it had almost as picturesque as it did now, sitting in Ophelia’s hand.

She sat up. The story had broken; the game was afoot. It was time for her to move.